Something About a Roller Coaster
by lolday-n-lolnight
Summary: Phineas and Ferb enjoy an unorthodox, but romantic, picnic. Everything changes when Candace interrupts them. WARNING: Phin/Ferb


They stop the car at a scrawny little tree with twisted branches that Phineas points out with yelp, pulling at Ferb's arm so hard he almost swerves off the road. But the dusty path is vacant, some little trail missed by the paving crews that transformed the older farmers' roads around Danville into highways some forty years ago. It's easy enough to pull off the gravel onto the flat dirt, spotted only occasionally with hardy grasses that become less and less frequent south down the road, into the Unpainted Desert.

Phineas hops over the door and out of the roofless red Cadillac before Ferb can even turn off the engine. He watches Phineas' tousled red hair in the mirror as he pops open the trunk of the car. Ferb takes his time getting out of the car. He leans against it aloofly and pulls a comb through his 50s-style greased-up hair, long enough to make sure his brother sees it. Finally Phineas slams shut the the trunk, picnic basket and big comfy blanket slung over one arm, and spots him. He laughs. "Who the heck are you trying to impress out here?"

Ferb tips his sunglasses down low and waggles his eyebrows. "No one," he says with a wink. Phineas laughs again and grabs Ferb's elbow with his other arm, dragging him into the lengthening shadow of the little tree.

"We'll have dinner there," the skinny redhead proclaims, pointing at a dirt patch that to Ferb looks identical to the desolate land all around them. But Phineas has that ferocious grin he only gets when he's planning some big idea. "And we'll put the blanket there, against the tree," he continues, "so we can snuggle if it gets cold."

Ferb raises an eyebrow and glances sidelong at his brother. He knows Phineas can read his every wordless gesture, but this time he ignores him. "Show me again how to open this thing up?" he asks, lifting up the picnic basket.

Silently he carries the basket over toward the general vicinity of Phineas' pointing finger and sets it down –

"No, not there!" Phineas interrupts. "A little to the left!"

The green-haired teenager picks up the basket, takes one large step to the left and sets it down again –

"What are you doing?! I said 'a little' to the left!"

He moves it back right again –

"Okay, now a little closer to me."

He nudges the basket forward with his toe –

"Now just three millimeters to the south."

Ferb folds his arms and fixes his brother with a glare that could freeze water. "You wanna do this yourself?"

But Phineas breaks into a huge smile again and bounces over to him. "That's perfect!" he says with a hug, and Ferb can't help but smile too. He reaches over the much scrawnier redhead and pushes a shiny red button on the handle of the picnic basket. With an echo-y popping sound it unfolds into a perfect duplicate of the warm, familiar kitchen from their suburban home.

Phineas breaks the embrace and flings open the refrigerator door. "I'm starved! How about some sushi?"

"You know I'm not very good at it yet," Ferb protests, but he's already pulling out a fish knife and a cutting board and setting them next to the growing pile of vegetables on the counter.

As they settle into their work, Phineas setting up the rice cooker and Ferb chopping some avocado, a comfortable silence falls between the two brothers. They communicate in other ways, in smiles and glances and light, ticklish finger brushes across bare arms and faces. As the sun sets a warm, homey glow comes up from a couple of lamps fixated to the bottoms of the cabinets. Only the quiet shuffling sound of a tumbleweed rolling along its lonely journey reminds the brothers they aren't at home.

A gust of wind rattles through the makeshift kitchen and Ferb shivers involuntarily. "Just about done?" Phineas asks, still smiling but with his eyebrows scrunched together with just the tiniest bit of worry.

Ferb nods and reveals the tray he'd shooed Phineas away from before. The rolls are simple, with just a bit of eel on top for flavor, but he's arranged them into a decent likeness of his brother's pointy nose and characteristically big smile. Phineas laughs and wraps his arms around him, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Ferb shivers against another big gust of wind, knocking a couple of the rolls to the ground and ruining the portrait.

"C'mon, let's get under that blanket," Phineas says, grabbing the tray with one hand and pushing Ferb off the linoleum and back onto the packed earth. With another push of a button the kitchen is folded back up into a picnic basket, the cleanup to be taken care of at some less romantic time.

Quickly they crawl under the blanket, Ferb leaning against the tree with one arm around Phineas, who settles into his brother's chest. They eat their dinner slowly and stare up at the thousands of tiny stars that shine through the clear desert night. A falling star breaks up the stillness, and for once Ferb notices it first. "Make a wish," he says, pointing to the streak of light.

Phineas shrugs Ferb's thick, muscly arm off his own skinny shoulders and reaches up to playfully bite his brother's ear; the feel of his breath against Ferb's neck makes the quiet teenager's heart beat hammer-hard. "I wish you'd say I love you," Phineas whispers, mock-seductively.

Ferb turns his head towards Phineas, pushing their noses together. "That's a lame wish," he says flatly.

"Not as lame as your hair," he retorts with a grin, flicking at a greasy curl come loose. But he leans in anyway and kisses him on the mouth.

Ferb would love nothing more than to kiss him back, deeper, and wrap one arm around Phineas' shoulders and another about his bony hips. But something doesn't feel right so he pulls away, gently, and tilts his head at Phineas with a concerned gaze.

The lanky teen sighs loudly and flops back against the tree, hands behind his head. Again he looks up at the sky and says, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Ferb nods slowly.

"And so was the top of Danville mountain, and the woods behind Lake Nose," Phineas continues, working himself up into a rant. "I bet we've seen every beautiful, out-of-the-way place there is to see in this town. But don't you wish we could do something as simple as say 'I love you' without having to run away?"

Ferb leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. In truth it doesn't bother him, but he's long known how heavily the covertness of the relationship has weighed on his extroverted brother's shoulders. He'd seen Phineas' awkward attempts to play dumb at Isabella's increasingly forward advances, and the longing in his eyes when others couple up at their impromptu music concerts. The cheerful redhead often jokes about their sneaking around, says it makes him feel like a secret agent; but that he hasn't slipped up even once in front of their closest friends betrays how seriously he treats his brother-lover's request for discretion. A selfish request perhaps, Ferb ponders. But he doesn't share Phineas' optimistic vision of their friends' and family's responses.

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye turns Ferb's attention back to the skinny figure reposed beside him. With surprise he realizes Phineas is rubbing something from his face with the back of his hand and frowning. "It's just sand in my eye," he says and turns his head away.

Wordlessly Ferb stands up. He grabs Phineas' hands and pulls him up too and then, leaning down and grabbing his legs, lifts his brother up as high as he can. Phineas giggles curiously and wraps his legs around the quiet Brit, waiting.

Ferb pauses. He feels he should say something, but words aren't always his strong point. "You should know," he begins uncertainly, "there's nothing more important -"

"Phineas? Ferb?" An all too familiar voice suddenly breaks through the quiet desert, high-pitched with anxiety. "Is that you?"

In unison the two brothers turn their heads back toward the forgotten gravel road, where a powder blue car has quietly snuck up on them. Sure enough, Candace gapes back at them from the driver's seat, her face a mixture of surprise and confusion. Jeremy leans forward from the passenger side, peering uncomprehendingly around the dark desert.

Ferb looks back at Phineas, thinking maybe this is some sort of test or joke, but his brother looks just as frightened and confused as him. Phineas pushes against Ferb's shoulders with his skinny arms, hissing, "Let me down before she sees us!"

But it's far too late for that. Already she's unbuckling her seat belt, popping open the door, ready to stomp over and demand to be told what's going on. And anyway brothers just don't _do _this, don't sneak out at night to the middle of nowhere and get caught staring into each other's eyes suggestively with their arms wrapped around their bodies.

There's no going back.

Ferb presses with one hand against Phineas' back, gently, leaning him in closer. Timidly he reaches up and kisses Phineas' upper lip. Almost immediately Phineas kisses him back, hungrily, and as he does Ferb's shyness melts away and he responds in kind. He finds himself lost as usual in Phineas' warm embrace, whatever fear or self-consciouness arisen from being discovered drowning in the pleasure of being so close to his love.

From far away he hears a car door slam, an engine sputter into wakefulness.

"What were they doing?" someone asks, already growing fainter as the car rolls away.

"Carpe diem," comes the reply.

"What?"

"It's Latin for... something to do with a roller coaster."


End file.
